


The Great Rooster Teeth Paintball War

by PAPERSK1N



Series: Paintball!Verse [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Contract Killers AU, M/M, Mavin, Paintball, Ray is the only rational one and all the girls are badasses, Raywood, Roosterteeth is like a killers-for-hire organisation, Spies!AU, Team Lads, Team Nice Dynamite, Vagabond, but only mavin on the side, codenames!, the guys are pretty badass too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rule one: You get shot, you're out.</p><p>Rule two: Nobody leaves the building.</p><p>Rule three is that there ain't no other rules.</p><p> </p><p>When Ray gets invited to an impromptu black tie no-weapons gala at Rooster Teeth HQ he's suspicious. He's a killer for hire- so he's actually always suspicious, but the invitation rubs him the wrong way. However, attendance is mandatory and Ray knows what happens to the people who break RT's rules. (hint: it involves murder)</p><p> </p><p>Burnie Burns is a complicated man, and he's spun them a web of Steven Speilburg proportions. Ray's just ready to go home to his Xbox when he's sucked into a game he doesn't even want to play (so really, a familiar feeling).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Event

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the paintball shenanigans on NBC's Community!
> 
> Please leave kudos and drop a comment! I greatly appreciate it.

The Great Roosterteeth Paintball War

 

 

_ The Event _

 

Ashley Jenkins was not a woman Ray knew very well. He knew _of_ her, as he knew _of_ many people. He knew _of_ Ashley Jenkins. He knew _of_ the Dalai Lama. To Ray, it was the same difference. Ashley Jenkins was small (like the Dalai Lama) and blonde (unlike the Dalai Lama) and very beautiful, in the unexplainable way all the women were in Roosterteeth. He wasn’t sure if it was their area of work or simply something in the water fountain, but for some reason every woman he ever saw in the building had what was often described as ‘It’. Being someone who dealt mostly in dick- he wasn’t exactly sure what the female equivalent of ‘ _it’_ was but understood that ‘It’ was greatly desirable to most other guys. It was almost unnerving, how perfectly perfect it all looked.

Ashley Jenkins handled their news, mostly. Every bulletin and email was penned and presented by her, letting them know what was going on in the outside world. You were leaving to work a job in Monte Carlo? She knew the current income of the casinos, she knew the safest possible hotel and she knew the ins and outs of every single political leader within a five mile radius of the town you’d be stationed in.

So yeah, Ray didn’t know her personally, but he knew of her and he knew she was pretty fucking awesome.

When the invitation was slipped under the door of his apartment, he was suspicious. He went through the usual protocols (peephole, gun, scan of the hallway, scan of the envelope). The paper was cheap A4 mush that had been processed through a laser printer sometime in the last few days. The ink was black as night and premium quality.

* * *

 

_You’re invited!_

_A gala in celebration of resident news guru Ashley Jenkin’s birthday. Dress code: Black tie. No weapons. Roosterteeth HQ._

_Attendance is **mandatory**._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Burnie Burns._

* * *

 

Ray sighed, tugging at the slim black tie that was wrapped like a snake around his neck. He hated parties, hated most forms of social interaction and he _hated_ formal wear. Wearing a full suit and tie didn’t feel right without a gun strapped to his thigh and a few knives up his sleeves. Burnie had been insistent on the no weapons policy (with the aid of scary looking armed doormen and a giant metal detector), and Ray wasn’t looking to get fired anytime soon. Well, he wasn’t looking to get _Roosterteeth’s_ version of fired, which involved kidnapping and eventual murder or brainwashing (so the rumours had it thus far)

Ray wandered into the building, marvelling in the way the main function room could transform. They never had much use for it, being a contract killer organisation, so it was often filled with spare stock, new shipments of weapons and anything else that could come in handy during practice and field work. The room had been completely stripped back, elegant banners adorning the walls and long tables shrouded in white cloths topped with food and drinks and punch and everything else Ray hated about parties. Basically, Mariel had done a pretty fucking excellent job.

“You alright, misery?”

Ray turned around. Gavin was stood behind him in a white tuxedo, martini in his right hand, Michael’s hand in his left. Ray rolled his eyes, because Gavin always had to go overboard with dress code. He looked like James Bond’s idiot unskilled half-brother. The reference would’ve felt more accurate if Gavin actually was an idiot, but sadly he was remarkably intelligent and a hearty addition to their workforce, so Ray couldn’t give him too much shit for the sake of a literary parallel.

“Mogar, Gavino. Good to see you guys.”

Michael rolled his eyes at that. “Ray, so formal! We don’t need codenames here, we’re safe- chill out.” He grinned, releasing Gavin’s hand so he could hug Ray, patting him heavily on the back. Ray couldn’t resist hugging his oldest friend back. Then, he did the same with Gavin. Gavin Free was an overzealous hugger, however, and ended up dumping half his martini on the ground.

“Nice one Gav, for fucks sake! I told you not to wear all white- I guarantee that tux is going to be ruined within the hour!”

“But Michael- it looks _cool!”_

Ray sighed as the classic Michael-and-Gavin bickering began. How the two maintained a functioning stable relationship all whilst being bitter enemies and killers-for-hire both baffled and astounded him. They’d have to give him their secret one day.

“ _Anyway_.” Michael gave Gavin a pointed look, that had the Brit ceasing his distressed babbling. Ray felt the heavy gaze of Michael’s eyes settling on his face, darting across every crease and every curve, trying to ascertain what exactly it was that Ray was _feeling_ in his weird, protective older-brother ways. Ray wasn’t sure what he was feeling anymore, but he was pretty sure if anyone did, it would be Michael. Michael would always be the one to get it out of him.

“You spoke to Ryan?” Michael asked.

“Asshole.” Ray sighed, rubbing at his hair briefly. If there was one thing he didn’t want to address, it was Ryan. He wanted to talk to the freak- that was a definite, but he really didn’t need to be having any sort of Ryan-centric conversation with Michael or Gavin.

“It’s alright, we’re not bugged or anything.” Michael smirked. “You can tell us what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on,” Ray was adamant, as a server stopped beside them, offering champagne. Michael took one but Ray refused, sending the man away with a slight shake of his head. “Ryan is the least of my concerns at the moment, believe me.”

“Still got the Grumps on your back?” Gavin asked. Ray nodded.

“What can I say, they want my blood after I double crossed them in Romania last year. Still got a birthday text. It’s all love.”

“Is it all love when you’ve got a knife embedded in your upper arm?” Michael sounded more like a chiding mother than an older brother at that moment. Ray sighed, and shrugged- ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his damaged nerve endings when he did so.

“You’re just lucky it wasn’t your shooting arm.” Michael sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly. He was on a roll that night, covering all members of the ‘traditional’ family. The transition from protective older brother followed by concerned mother turned disapproving father was truly mesmerising. _Give the guy an Oscar_ , Ray thought bitterly.

“Whatever dude. It’s all good, few bumps and bruises, no big deal.”

“Let’s keep it that way, yeah?” Michael tilted his glass towards Ray, who nodded. “Good.” Michael smiled. Ray grimaced.

“I’ll drink to that.” Gavin said, taking a hearty swallow of the clear liquid. He gagged slightly following some kind of altercation between his tongue and an olive, before abandoning the martini on a nearby server’s tray where he swapped it for a vodka cocktail. Then with a nod to Ray and a smirk to Michael, he wandered off apparently in search of Geoff.

Once Gavin was submersed in the large crowd of Roosterteeth employees Michael turned back to Ray, brown eyes darkening.

“Alright, he’s gone- now tell me the _truth_.”

“About what?!”

“Ryan! I know something’s up with you, and I know it has something to do with Ryan, because you’ve been off since the two of you came back from Argentina- so what is it?”

Ray sighed. Michael was being his usual self, brutish and demanding. It was very unlikely that Ray could talk his way out of his best friend’s rigorous questioning, so he would be better off answering whatever it was Michael wanted to know before he had a chance to figure out what else might have gone down between he and Ryan in the first place.

“He’s been avoiding me recently and I don’t know why. I thought everything was cool when we came back from Argentina- it was an in and out job, no big deal. But since then, he hasn’t said a single fucking word to me.”

Michael’s eyebrows raised and he nodded, sipping at his champagne. “That makes sense. You’ve been walking around with a face like you’ve been sucking off a lemon and now I see why. You’re upset your boyfriend’s giving you the silent treatment.”

Ray scoffed. “Yeah Michael, that’s it- real fucking mature, bro.”

Michael laughed. “What? It’s true- you’ve got a big gay crush for Ryan, dude- I get it. He _is_ hot.”

“Shut _up_.”

“You know, me and Gav fell in love on a mission- it could happen to you too, and-”

“Shut up!” Ray repeated, louder. Michael slammed his mouth shut and quirked his brow questioningly. Ray sighed, but motioned a few feet away to where Ryan was standing, black tuxedoed-out talking to Pattillo with a can of Diet Coke in his hand.

“Oh. I’m surprised he’s even fucking here.” Michael said, suspicion lingering in his tone. “Everybody knows that Ryan doesn’t do parties, period.”

“He _is_ pretty good friends with Jenkins.” Ray pointed out. “Plus, attendance was mandatory dude, Burnie’s invite made that explicitly clear. He probably didn’t want to end up in a regulation body-bag either. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“Not to wish Burnie’s blushing bride a happy birthday then?” Michael asked, tongue dripping with sarcasm. Ray was more than happy to indulge, eager to get as far away from the subject of _Ryan_ as he could.

“Dude, Ashley seems nice and all but I barely know her. I could be on a date right now- with my Xbox of course.”

“Loser.” Michael laughed. “But whatever bro, you’re here and so is he so maybe you should try and talk to him. Ryan’s a pretty weird guy, so don’t let it bother you too much that somethings crawled up his ass, alright?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ray sighed, “How’re you anyway, man? How was the Caribbean?”

Michael huffed, rolling his eyes as he often did whenever anything to do with Gavin was brought up in conversation. “Jamaica was the fucking _tits_ until Gavin got us fucking kidnapped.”

“He did that again? Dude, you’re gonna run out of safe vacation spots soon.”

“I know man. We’re in this fucking resort right, and one night Gav decides-”

* * *

 

“Fink.”

Geoff looked up to see Gavin, clad in his all white Asshole Bond tuxedo with what looked like a cosmopolitan in his hand and partially on his collar. He rolled his eyes.

“Quit it with the outdated terminology dude. My official codename is Lazer now, you know I had to ditch the Fink-”

“-once you had a kid for safety, yes _mum_ I’m fine without the lecture thanks. Lazer is dumb anyway.” Gavin leant with his back against the bar, eyes fixed on Geoff who was leant on his side, sipping from his martini in a way that was just the right amount of classic movie villain mixed with functioning alcoholic.

“Well whatever. Tonight, it’s Geoff isn’t it? Burnie insisted everything was all completely casual tonight. No weapons, no codenames- unlimited alcohol. Honestly, he should get Mariel to organise parties more often.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, but let Geoff clink their glasses together. “Yeah, yeah, cheers to all that I suppose.” He shrugged. Geoff shot him a quizzical look.

“What? You not having a good time?” he asked.

“No, I am…” Gavin rocked back on his heels. “It’s just… doesn’t this all seem a little bit weird to you?”

“What? A party? No, because I have a life Gavin, unlike you-”

“-No, not that you twat.” Gavin gave Geoff a slight dig with his elbow. “Just… all this? A big old gala for Ashley’s birthday of all things, no weapons, black tie and hand delivered invites- it’s all a bit out of the blue, isn’t it?”

Geoff paused, thinking it over for a moment. “Okay, I suppose you’re right.” He said. His eyes scanned the room for Burnie, but the big boss was nowhere in sight. Instead, he caught Griffon’s gaze as she made her way over to the bar beside them, champagne in hand.

“Gavin! How are you?”

“Good thanks, Grif.” Gavin smiled, hugging the woman who’d been kind enough to persuade Geoff not to murder him during their first ever encounter. “You’re looking all… _fancy_.”

“Black tie- boring for guys, fun for girls.” She gestured at her floor length dress with a tattooed hand, making Geoff smile as the blood-red fabric flowed around her legs.

“My beautiful wife.” He addressed her. She scoffed at him.

“How much have you had to drink?” she asked with a grin. Geoff huffed.

“Not enough. Burnie should’ve had an open bar.” He mused. “Speaking of the boss himself, Gavin thinks he’s up to something.”

“He’s absolutely up to something.” Griffon nodded. “Black tie event for no good reason? It’s Church, Geoff- he’s always up to something.”

“I guess you’re right.” Geoff sighed. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t involve murder- I’m technically supposed to be on vacation.”

“You, take a vacation?” Gavin asked incredulously. Geoff rolled his eyes.

“Italy. We had to postpone our flights to make this fucking carnival.” He gestured around at the room as another drink was slid over to him. “Once we’re no longer contractually obliged to be here- we’re off.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Gavin laughed, lifting his glass. Geoff and Griffon met him in the air, a sharp clinking sound echoing in his ears. Something still felt off about this whole extravaganza, that was for sure- but Burnie Burns was a complicated man, and he never laid his cards on the table. He kept them close to his chest, and he had a pretty damn good poker face, in Gavin’s experience.

* * *

 

Ray’s palms were clammy as he watched Ryan. He probably looked like a creepy serial-stalker, but was also probably past the point of caring as he studied his so-called ‘partner’s’ interactions with the other members of the company. For once, Ryan wasn’t wearing his dark and brooding façade and was actually talking to people, making jokes and laughing like any other ‘normal’ person- or as normal as Roosterteeth got, anyway.

Ray could spot Ryan in a lie or an act from thirty paces, so he knew instantly that this wasn’t one of those times. It was all in the hand movements really- when Ryan got excited, his hands took over the conversation. It was half the reason he could barely speak coherently when they played video games together. Ryan would swear blind that he was fine with multi-tasking until he met Ray, and that the younger had been the one to turn his brain to mush.

Ray smiled, despite his bitterness at the whole situation. Ryan was…different from other people he’d met through the business. They were partners, and they had to work together, despite Ryan sudden aversion to him- but they actually got on well. They had similar interests and a similar dark sense of humour, they liked the same movies, both knew nothing about celebrity culture and were almost an unstoppable co-op force in video games. Despite their connection (The R&R Connection, as Ray had dubbed it) they both still understood the boundaries of the job and the life. They were friends, but they were friends of circumstance. So, it surprised Ray how irked he was by Ryan’s unforeseen radio silence towards him- usually he didn’t give a shit about most people, besides Michael and occasionally Gavin. But Ryan was the kind of asshole who found it way too easy to be charming and affable and he’d somehow burrowed his way into Ray’s thoughts in a very un-circumstantial way and then refused to leave.

Feet moving on their own accord, Ray walked swiftly across the room to the table. He was getting his answers out of Ryan, whether it involved torture or not. Ryan was a bit of a sick fucker at times, he’d probably enjoy Ray’s hollow threat of tying him up and prodding him with plyers until he talked. Ray had seen Ryan in similar situations many a time before, and he couldn’t lie to himself by saying Ryan didn’t look good covered in his own blood.

“Hey, Ryan-”

“-Meg, you’ll never guess what I saw in Montreal last week!”

Just like that Ryan had taken off, walking towards the purple-haired five-two marital arts expert that usually went by the pseudonym _Doll_. Ray’s ability to physically speak had been sucked from him in a single stride of Ryan’s long-ass legs and his mouth hung open, half formed around the greeting. Ryan had seen him- he knew that for a fact. Ryan was pretty good at hiding things, but he wasn’t so good at hiding them from Ray. He’d caught the single second that Ryan’s eyes flickered to his face, before they turned back out into the crowd and scanned for someone- _anyone_ else to talk to.

It was more than enough to make Ray feel like he’d been punched in the chest.

And what was all this about _Montreal_? he wondered as he anxiously rushed off towards the parking lot. Ryan never took vacations, and especially didn’t take them to Canada- so the only reason he would be there would be if he was working a job. But he and Ryan took all their jobs together, didn’t they? Split the workload, split the cash 60/40 depending on who it was originally assigned to, didn’t they?

They were a team. Weren’t they?

Ray hadn’t realised he was hyperventilating until he’d locked the doors to Michael’s car from the inside. He’d swiped the keys from Gavin’s pocket earlier, knowing the two would end up being way too drunk to drive anywhere by the end of the night. They’d probably stay the night in the bunkbeds out in _The Know_ headquarters, anyway, so Ray could take the car and illegally drive home without having to wait around for someone to give him a ride.

Ray took in some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Frantically, he pulled down the visor mirror and rubbed his hands under his eyes, trying to catch the tears before they could track down his face.

“You’re being an idiot.” He scolded his reflection, teeth gritted. “Fuck Ryan, he doesn’t mean shit to you anyway. He’s just your partner- you can get a new one. He doesn’t mean _anything_.”

It didn’t matter whether he believed his own words or not, the short sentiment was enough to calm him down enough so he could regain a normal breathing pace once again. Ray laid back in the driver’s seat and tucked his knees up against his chest.

The lights from the front of the Roosterteeth building briefly skimmed across his face, before they rotated back to the doors and powered down. It was weird, like the building was going into lockdown, but the security guards were still calmly stood outside, sharing a pack of cigarettes and playing cards at the entrance. Ray sniffed, rubbing his eyes again.

He couldn’t even believe how ridiculously idiotic he was behaving. Was he really sitting in Michael’s car, having a panic attack because Ryan wasn’t speaking to him? There was so much more he had to be worried about, such as sudden death at any moment and whether he’d remembered to set Chopped to record back in his apartment. _Real_ -person problems.

Ray sighed and let out a short laugh at his own expense. He couldn’t help but laugh at himself, out of fear that he really would start bawling like a thirteen-year-old if he didn’t. He reached over to leaf through Michaels’ glovebox, hoping that there would be something in there to entertain him until he was ready to brave the party again.

He was in luck, and Michael’s DS was easy enough to find, old school Mario already plugged in on an R4 card. Video Games had always been Ray’s safe haven, so he was more than happy to kick back with his feet on the dashboard and beat a few levels. He hated parties anyway.

He probably wouldn’t miss much.

* * *

 

Ray sprang up from the car seat, startling himself awake. His eyes flew to the watch on his wrist, and he swore, knocking his head back against the car seat. He’d slept for an _hour?_ Damn, staying up until three AM the previous night marathoning _Man VS Food_ hadn’t been a good idea.

He was surprised nobody had come out to look for him yet, but then- maybe they were all too drunk to care. Michael’s DS was left open on his chest, the battery long dead- so he stuffed it back into the glovebox and climbed out of the car. He wasn’t even sure what it was he’d been dreaming about to wake him up so violently, but he was glad that whatever it was was over, and he’d killed at least a sizeable section of the party off.

The thought of being just a few hours closer to his Xbox and his bed was what kept him from retreating back to the car until someone did come to look for him. Ray strolled across the parking lot with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets and approached the door. He frowned, noting that the security guards he’d seen earlier were nowhere to be seen.

Maybe they were on break, maybe they’d been taken out by a rival force- Ray didn’t know nor did he care. Maybe a gang taking hostages and attempting to kill them all was what he needed to make the party bearable. Ray smiled at the thought as he punched in the code to open up the doors. A nice KGB style attempted take-over, a good fight to keep his blood pumping.

The door opened and Ray froze on his first step inside.

The hallway had been trashed, for starters. Kara’s desk was tossed to the floor, the pictures that adorned the wall smashed or laid out against the walls. There wasn’t much furniture to really wreck in the entrance hall alone, but what had really set the theme of destruction in the narrow space was the splatters of colour that adorned the walls.

Frowning, Ray closed the door behind him. Silently cursing Burnie for not letting him bring his gun, he approached the wall and dipped his finger into the nearest blue splatter. It was wet, but not sticky or suspicious in anyway. Ray sniffed the gloopy substance and frowned.

It was _paint_.

“What the fuck?” Ray stepped back, peering around the hallway suspiciously. He checked his watch again, double checking that he had really only been asleep for just the hour. How could someone have wrecked the building with paint of all things in that short hour, and why was the area starting to feel like a ghost town?

Ray ascended the stairs, marvelling at the sheer amount of destruction that adorned the building. It looked like some kind of warzone, and an uneasy feeling was settling in his stomach, because he was approaching the main function room and hadn’t seen a single person yet. They were a fucking organisation of contract killers- they knew how to fight and they knew how to work together, so where the _fuck_ were they all?

The main function room matched the new décor of the rest of the place. Paint splatters, upturned tables and smashed glasses littering the walls and the floor. Unfortunately for Ray, much like the rest of the headquarters it was completely empty. The music mix that had been playing throughout the night was still on loop through the speakers, but it was muted and distorted. Ray guessed that the speakers had probably been pretty badly damaged, due to the fact that orange splatters of paint were covering them entirely.

He left the function room and carried on towards the left, heading to the RT Labs. If everyone _was_ dead or in trouble, he was going to need something to protect himself, and RT Labs would probably be the best place to secure a few weapons if any had been left lying around. Burnie was always weird about weapons at work, and with the demand that everyone had to have their own shit, there wasn’t much left in the building outside of working hours. RT Labs was where they tested all their new tech, so if Ray needed a gun- that would be the place to find one.

The door to RT Lab 1 was coated in red and yellow paint, in what looked more like some kind of mural rather than an attack. There were three letters in the centre, but they were so smudged and covered by the occasional splattering of other foreign colours that they were impossible to make out.

Glancing around for safety, Ray opened the door to the lab and stepped inside. It was pitch black, but when Ray fumbled around the room for the light-switch, he was stopped by a recognisable voice.

“Freeze, intruder!”

Ray froze, but not due to the command. He frowned, and slapped on the lights.

“Gavin?!”

“I said freeze, Ray!” Gavin pointed a gun at him. Ray frowned, but put his hands up anyway- he wasn’t sure if Gavin was drunk or drugged or just plain crazy, but he wasn’t looking to get shot any time soon. The gun was foreign to him, which was odd because Ray could name most guns on sight and take a pretty good guess at the rest. Gavin’s gun was brightly coloured and plastic-y looking, Ray wasn’t sure whether to feel threatened or worried.

“Gav! What’s going on?”

Gavin’s dinner jacket was gone, long expensive shirtsleeve ripped almost completely off on the left side with his red tie wrapped around his head like some kind of vigilante or terrorist. Ray titled his head as Gavin’s unsteady hand refused to lower the gun.

“Don’t play dumb, Ray.” He said, nervousness tinting his voice. “You’re one of the best here… so-so if you came to get me out, you may as well just do it. But… I promise, I’ll be taking you out with me.”

Pointedly, he shook the gun again in Ray’s direction. Ray slammed his backwards body against the door (as if _that_ was going to stop the bullet whizzing straight through his chest) and raised his hands up in the air.

“What are you talking about?”

“-And…” Gavin continued. “And if I don’t, well- Michael will avenge me and I’ll get the prize anyway, because we agreed we were going to share it, so it doesn’t even matter really, and-”

“Gavin!” Ray yelled, cutting the Brit’s babbling to a halt. “What the fuck are you talking about? What _prize_?” he asked.

Gavin paused, looking at Ray and taking in his appearance. Ray was dressed pristinely; he didn’t have a gun or any visible weapon. His eyes were wide with fear and his hands were just beginning to tremble. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right on Gavin’s stomach, and he could help but tilt his head and frown, stepping forwards.

“You honestly don’t know?” he asked.

“Dude, I’ve been playing DS in Michael’s car for the past hour- I fall asleep, wake up and come back here, suddenly place has been trashed! What the _fuck_ is going on?”

* * *

 

_Gavin had just made his way back to Michael when Burnie stepped up to the raised speaker’s stage. Ashley was stood beside him, a smile on her face as she leant into the microphone._

_“I hope everybody is having a great time!” she said, beaming at the crowd. There was a low hum of applause and a few cheers, followed by Ashley stepping back from the mike so Burnie could lean forwards._

_“My wonderful employees- fuck that, my awesome friends!” he greeted. “I know that some of you are wondering what brought all this on. So, I’m gonna tell you-”_

_“-about time, asshole!” Geoff heckled from the crowd. Burnie laughed._

_“Alright, no more drinks for Geoff. Anyway, today is the lovely Ashley Jenkins birthday, can we get a big round of applause for that, yeah?” he prompted, waving his hands as the crowd of killers began to cheer. Ashley smiled at Burnie, who was still watching the crowd with a deadly looking smile on his face. “Nice, nice,” he quietened them. “However, not only is it Ashley’s birthday today. Today is another special day.” He paused, as if waiting for someone to ask him what. Gavin rolled his eyes from where he was stood at Michael’s scared. Burnie Burns was nothing if not overdramatic, after all._

_“Get to the point.” He mumbled. Michael laughed quietly beside him._

_“Today, is the ten-year anniversary of us hitting our one hundred confirmed kills record. It was a huge deal for me- that was one of my proudest moments in my time as CEO, and now I know that on this milestone, it’s the right time for me to… step down.”_

_Gavin’s drink fell from his hands to the floor, smashing and coating his shoes. He didn’t even flinch at the feeling of cold liquid hitting his ankles. Burnie was stepping down as CEO. **Burnie** was stepping down as **CEO.**_

_“I know it comes as a shock to a lot of you, but this is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.” Burnie sighed, quieting the gasping crowd. “I’ll still be heavily involved in the company; I just can’t be the guy who calls the final shots anymore. Tonight, is in part- a way to ensure that the best person takes my place. So I’ve designed a… competition of sorts.”_

_Burnie’s mouth fell once again into a smile. Gavin glanced nervously across the room at Geoff, who had Griffon’s hand gripped in his tightly._

_“If you’ll all cast your gazes to the tables around you.”_

_Everyone turned in perfect synchronisation as the servers pulled at the white table cloths, sending the appetizers and glasses to the ground in an audible smash. Under the draping cloths, as everyone was shocked to see, were not simply tables. They were cargo storage boxes of sorts, clear glass surrounding the supply inside._

_“Paintball guns- don’t worry.” Burnie pointed out. “And enough ammo to take down a gallery. Your task is simple… be the last man- or woman, standing. Rule one- you get shot, you’re out. Rule two- nobody leaves the building. Rule three? Rule three is there aint no other rules, so if I were you… I’d start getting yourselves acquainted with your new tools. Game starts in…ten.”_

_“Ten what?” Gavin asked, turning to look at Michael worriedly. What the hell was Burnie playing it? The man in question only smirked, almost directly at them._

_“Why is he looking at us like-”_

_“Nine…eight…seven.”_

_People scrambled like a stampede of elephants in a zoo towards the tables, grabbing not just the plastic guns but as much ammo as they could get their hands on as they realised the truth of the little time they had left. Some people were already taking their haul and running out of the doors, deep into the building. Michael tossed a bucket of paintballs into Gavin’s hands._

_“Team Nice Dynamite?”_

_Gavin’s hand gripped into a fist. “You got it boi. Let’s show the rest of these assholes how it’s done.”_

_“Two…One… **begin!** ”_

* * *

 

“That is _literally_ , the stupidest story I’ve ever heard.”

Gavin shrugged, legs kicking against the cabinets under the desk he was perched on as he reloaded their small collection of weapons. “I suppose it is a bit daft when you say it out loud.”

Before Ray could reply, a short rhythmic series of knocks was heard at the door. Ray’s eyes widened at the prospect of one of their friends busting in to fake-murder them, but Gavin looked calm as ever, strolling over with his gun limply in his side and opening the door.

Michael stepped inside. His shirt and jacket were completely gone, biceps bared in his plain wife-beater tucked into his trousers. He had what looked like bruises covering his arms, dirt caking his face and a strip of paint dipped wiped fabric wrapped around his forehead. In his hands, he was carrying a few small guns and a bag of ammo.

“I managed to pick off what was left of the marketing crew. This was all they had.” He said, stepping inside so Gavin could shut the door behind him.

“Perfect.” The Brit replied, pecking Michael briefly on the cheek. Michael didn’t say anything to him, just stepped further into the room. He froze when he spotted Ray, perched on a stool.

“Oh yeah,” Gavin said. “I found Ray.”

For a second, Ray thought Michael was going to shoot him. Instead, his friend grinned and bounded over, hugging Ray tightly. “Brownman! Good to see you, you son of a bitch.” He laughed. Ray leant back from the embrace, and scanned his eyes over Michael’s dishevelled appearance.

“Dude. You look like shit.” He said, truthfully. Michael just shrugged flippantly.

“War is hell, dude.”

“Get this Michael,” Gavin laughed, laying out the new guns on their table. “Ray didn’t even know what was going on! He was playing DS in our car the whole time, missed the whole bloody thing! He wandered in here unarmed and clueless. I’m surprised honestly you didn’t get taken out by any of the interns that have been gathering in clusters around the hallways.” He shook his head amusedly, patting Ray on the back and grinning down at him. However, Ray wasn’t watching Gavin. Ray was watching how Michael’s frown grew more and more prominent as Gavin’s story went on. By the end of it, his arm was outstretched, gun pointed towards Ray’s chest.

“You sure he’s unarmed?” he asked, tilting his head as he looked Ray up and down. Ray was desperate to make an ocular pat-down joke, but Michael didn’t look like he was kidding. Not at all.

“Well… he said he was-”

“He fucking said?! Gavin you _idiot_ , this could all just be a fucking ploy to take us out when we’re least expecting it! What were you thinking, just letting him in here? You should’ve taken him out!”

“Michael- come on, it’s _Ray_!”

“I don’t give a shit _who_ shows up at the door. Right now, he’s just another body between us and the prize.”

“Dude,” Ray raised his hands in surrender, for the second time that night, “As someone who has literally been your best friend for like- ever, I’m pretty fucking offended.”

Michael’s hand didn’t shake, and the gun raised to Ray’s head. “War changes people like that.” He said. “like Jack, for example? Sweetness and fucking light Jack who patches up our booboos on group missions? You know who I’m talking about?”

“Dude, you had me at Jack-”

“I watched him murder Farmahini in cold blood the second the alarm went off that the game was beginning. Green, straight into the chest.” Michael lowered his gun again, jabbing Ray’s sternum.

Ray rolled his eyes. “Dude, am I supposed to be scared? It’s fucking _paintball_ …”

“Paintball for a chance at the whole fucking company, asshole! Imagine what you could do with the whole of fucking _Roosterteeth_ at your beck and call- you’d be living like a King for the rest of your days. This changes _everything_.”

“Oh whatever.” Ray scoffed, rocking back on his stall to lean against one of the counters. Michael still looked murderous, but lowered his gun anyway. “Can I have a gun if I promise not to shoot you? Pretty please?”

“I don’t know, Gav?” Michael turned to face his boyfriend. “What do you think? Can we trust him?”

Thankfully, Gavin smiled. “Well, we are Team Lads I guess. And things would be easier with a third pair of eyes, watch each-other’s backs and that.”

“Alright.” Michael nodded, pulling a gun from the back of his pants and tossing it to Ray, who caught it one handed. Ray turned the gun around in his hands a few times, acquainting himself with every bump and every tick. If there was one thing Ray loved- it had to be weapons.

“But I’m taking the first night watch.” Michael announced, tucking his own gun back into his pants. “No funny business like shooting us while we’re sleeping.”

“Wait, _sleeping_?” Ray asked, eyes wide. “We’re supposed to just stay here?” Michael nodded. “Over night?” Michael nodded again, tossing his gun on the counter and rubbing at his hair.

“We’re on lockdown, dude.” He explained. “Nobody leaves the building until somebody wins.”

“How the- this is _insane_!” Ray yelled. “Am I the only person who can see that this is fucking _insane?!_ ”

“Keep your fucking voice down!” Michael snapped. “If someone knows you’re a part of our group now, we’ll get targeted.”

“But Michael, this is _crazy-_ ”

“Are you in or fucking not, Ray?” Michael sighed. “Because if you’re not, we can send you right back out into that hellhole and listen to your screams through the door as you get blasted with nine millimetres of pure condensed paint. Your choice.”

Ray’s mouth hung open, and he looked between Michael and Gavin. Had somebody spiked their drinks earlier? Had he been dropped into some kind of war-movie? This whole situation was something straight out of a shitty fan-fiction, yet Michael and Gavin were fucking swallowing it down like water.

“This is crazy.” He muttered again. However, at Michael’s raised eyebrow, Ray sighed and nodded. If he was going to join the insanity, he was at least going to want weapons, ammo and a few pairs of eyes to watch his back. He didn’t really care about being CEO, but could see why Michael and Gavin wanted it. Besides, being the guy who helped the CEO of Roosterteeth get to his position? That could reap plenty of future benefits.

“Good.” Michael smiled, patting Ray on the shoulder in a friendly display of affection. “Tomorrow, we start really planning how we’re going to win this motherfucker.”


	2. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to the bathrooms was long and torturous. On a normal day, it was barely five minutes if you walked briskly. Amidst what people had actually begun to describe as The Great Rooster Teeth Paintball War, the journey was a little lengthier than that.
> 
> After a few hours of hiding, creeping, shooting and a little bit of fighting, Ray, Gavin and Michael had made their way to the bathrooms. They were three days in, and pissing into the two empty water-bottles they’d found in the recycling bin back in the lab was starting to get a little weird.
> 
> “We clear?” Michael asked Ray, stood on the opposite side of the hallway. Ray peered around the side at the empty corridor where the bathrooms were, and nodded, stepping out. Michael and Gavin followed close behind hem, guns tucked in the holsters they’d found in a broken locker.
> 
> “How’d you wanna do this then, lads?” Gavin asked. “Go in one at a time, other two keep watch?”
> 
> Ray was halfway through a nod when Michael spoke. “No,” he said. “We stay together. It’s safer that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said on my tumblr if I hit 400 followers I'd give a sneak peak at this chapter... so I checked my followers this morning and I was at 410 so i just thought... fuck it! (Also... Day Three? Three days after I posted it... shit adds up)
> 
> 'Day Five' will be posted on Nov 1st and 'Two Days Later' can be Nov 3rd!
> 
> And hey! Leave Kudos if you liked it! Already done that? Leave a comment! Already done that too??? Leave another?!!!

** Day Three **

 

 

The journey to the bathrooms was long and torturous. On a normal day, it was barely five minutes if you walked briskly. Amidst what people had actually begun to describe as _The Great Rooster Teeth Paintball War_ , the journey was a little lengthier than that.

After a few hours of hiding, creeping, shooting and a little bit of fighting, Ray, Gavin and Michael had made their way to the bathrooms. They were three days in, and pissing into the two empty water-bottles they’d found in the recycling bin back in the lab was starting to get a little weird.

“We clear?” Michael asked Ray, stood on the opposite side of the hallway. Ray peered around the side at the empty corridor where the bathrooms were, and nodded, stepping out. Michael and Gavin followed close behind hem, guns tucked in the holsters they’d found in a broken locker.

“How’d you wanna do this then, lads?” Gavin asked. “Go in one at a time, other two keep watch?”

Ray was halfway through a nod when Michael spoke. “No,” he said. “We stay together. It’s safer that way.”

Michael marched into the bathroom past both of them, Gavin shooting Ray an apologetic shrug before following him. Michael still didn’t trust him one hundred percent, which was baffling to Ray as they’d done hundreds of _real_ life-or-death missions in the past. Ray hadn’t gotten him killed yet, and they’d both saved each other’s asses plenty of times.

They stood at the urinal in a line, Gavin rocking on his heels in the middle as he unzipped his pants. However, before he could actually get his release, he heard a faint noise behind him. It was quiet yet noticeable, like the tap of a shoe on the floor.

Ray and Michael had heard it too, both looking at each other suspiciously. After a few seconds, Michael stepped forwards, towards the supposedly empty stalls. He kicked the first door open, but found it empty.

“I don’t know,” he said, turning around. Gavin and Ray watched in silent horror as Barbara Dunkelman emerged from behind the door, gun cocked and pointed at Michael’s head. “Guess there’s nobody here.”

“Wanna bet?”

It was at that moment Ray saw the error of their mistakes. It had been staring them in the face, the entire time. The person shaped outlines around the urinals, paint blasting around the edges was just way too obvious to be noticed.

Meg and Lindsay had busted out of the adjacent stall doors, guns cocked in their hands. It was a standoff of Spaghetti-Western proportions, Michael upping the ante by twisting Barbara’s arm and pointing his gun at her.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Michael asked, smirking as he aimed his gun at Barbara’s chest. She smirked, but Lindsay was the one to speak up, gun to gun with Gavin.

“Please,” she drawled, a snide eye settling on Michael. “We’ve taken out so many clueless guys in here, you wouldn’t believe.”

“The prize is ours.” Meg added, one gun trained on Ray, the other steadily pointed at Michael from the moment he’d turned on Barbara. She made it look so effortless, purple curls splattered with red paint cascading at her shoulders like a bloody waterfall. Still, not even Meg Turney was enough to faze Ray- he dealt with the Vagabond on a daily basis.

“You really think you’re quicker than me?” he asked, smirking as Meg’s confident smile twitched briefly. “You really think you’ve got enough ammo in those guns to take us out before we take you out?”

A beat of silence went throughout the room, Lindsay and Barbara’s eyes flying to their leader. Meg sighed, and slowly, lowered her guns.

“God dammit, no.” she huffed. “We don’t have nearly enough ammo.”

Michael lifted his pistol up so they could see the empty clip. “Us either.” He laughed, “We’ve been running low for a while.”

“It was all fun in the beginning when you thought a bag would last you forever.” Lindsay sighed, tilting her own gun to show the three lonely paintballs that sat inside. “We’ve been waiting in here for a victim who actually had ammo on them to take, but no such luck.”

“How long’ve you been holed up in here?” Gavin asked. Barbara shrugged.

“A while, we want to move out and head to the safe-zone, but with no ammo we won’t survive the journey.”

Ray couldn’t help the laugh from bursting out of his mouth at that, three angry pairs of female eyes flying to him at once. He swallowed down the rest of his giggles, but couldn’t hide the disbelieving smirk from his face. “Safe-zone.” He snorted. “Aren’t you guys a little too old for fairy tales?”

“Who says it’s a fairy tale?” Meg stepped forwards, hands on her hips defensively. The long expensive looking dress Ray had seen her in the night of the party had almost transformed, ripped and tattered around her knees, long sleeves torn and caked in dirt. Barbara and Lindsay were much the same, Lindsay even sporting some kind of make-shift tourniquet around her apparently bleeding wrist.

“There is no safe zone- it’s just a myth.” Michael said quietly. Meg turned to him, shaking her head.

“No way, it’s real.” She said. “We know it is.”

“How’d you know.” Ray rolled his eyes. “Please, we’d love to hear it. Did the paintball fairy tell you?”

“No.” She Barbara glared at him, “Jordan told us about it- he’d been there… it was the last thing he said before he… he got- got, I guess.”

“Cweirz is out?” Michael asked, a sad tone lingering in his words. Lindsay nodded solemnly.

“Him, Mariel, Tyler and Cole had one of the upstairs offices locked down for a while but… the ghost got ‘em.” She said sadly, shaking her head. “We got up there right after the ambush.”

“Hold on- the _ghost_?” Ray asked, raising an eyebrow. “What ghost?”

Barbara’s round eyes widened. “You mean; you guys haven’t heard the story?” she asked. Michael shook his head.

“The Ghost of the Bungalow,” Meg gestured dramatically in the direction the bungalow stood. A small smile grew on her face, “At least that’s what they’re calling him now. I’ve always preferred Vagabond, but you know-”

“-Wait,” Gavin interrupted. “The Ghost is _Ryan?_!”

“Yup.” Lindsay nodded. “He was teamed up with Jack, Caleb, a few other guys from your division down there until he turned on them. He’s got the whole bungalow on lockdown all by himself, and at night he sneaks out and picks people off in the night.”

“He got Aaron and Josh on Sunday.” Barbara sighed, stroking the gun in her hand gently. “Ambushed them whilst they were searching for ammo.”

“Black Josh or White Josh?” Michael asked.

“White Josh,” Barbara replied, “Grapevine says that Josh Ornelas made it to the safe zone.”

“Safe zone.” Ray laughed. “There you go again- kid stories. There _is_ no safety in this nonsense.”

“It’s real!” Meg insisted adamantly. “People are running out of ammo and paintballs are becoming liquid gold.”

“So what?” Ray was still unmoved by her story. There was no magical safe zone- it was the stir-craziness talking within them. They’d been locked up in the building play-acting out a war that Burnie had crafted with his bare hands for days- everyone was starting to go a little insane.

“-So say someone managed to turn that into currency?” Lindsay said. Ray froze. “Say that happened. But then, who’d be crazy and cowardly enough to do that? Find the one way to secure their own safety without having to hurt a fly…”

“Geoff fucking Ramsey!” Michael exclaimed. Lindsay grinned.

“Ding-ding-ding.” She joked. “Word has it, Lazer’s got a shit ton of ammo walled up behind the safe zone that he’s hoarding for when people eventually turn on him. And with the Ghost picking off more people by the night… who knows how long till that happens.”

“We’ve got to get there whilst it’s still safe and steal that ammo so we can end this.” Barbara added.

“And then what?” Ray asked. “Say we find this… ‘safe zone’ or whatever. Say we kill Ryan, kill Geoff _and_ everyone else there. Then what do we do, huh?”

“Then it’s all for one and one for all.” Meg said, taking the handful of paintballs Gavin had given her. “Winner gets the company.” She smiled, loading the gun and aiming it at the wall playfully. Ray sighed.

“Huh, that sounds like a good plan, actually.” Gavin nodded. “This whole thing is absolutely mental, so a safe-zone couldn’t be that farfetched, I guess. I wonder where Burnie even is in all this.”

“Probably tanning with Ashley on a beach in Jamaica.” Michael scoffed, heading out of the bathrooms. The girls, Gavin and Ray followed him out into the empty hallway so they could make their way back to the base.

“Nope, rumour has it he’s got eyes everywhere.” Lindsay said, gesturing to the camera’s in the corner of each hallway. “He sees us. He sees _everyone_.”

Ray snorted. “What an asshole.” He mumbled, before lining his gun up with the lens of the security camera. He pulled the trigger, covering the whole viewpoint in a splatter of blue.

* * *

 

Their meal that night consisted of a handful of candy bars and a few bags of potato chips that they stole from a smashed out vending machine, the three bottles of coke that laid in the bottom along with half a tin of questionable spaghetti-o’s that they’d found in a locker and heated up over a Bunsen burner back in the lab.

“Coming from someone who regularly eats dollar cheeseburgers by _choice_ , this is probably not a healthy way to live.” Ray grumbled, nibbling at the corner of a Hershey’s bar. The chocolate was sweet and smooth on his tongue which was nice, but far from substantial.

“Don’t complain too soon,” Barbara said. “half the interns were living off a 60 pack of gum before their leader passed out from hunger and their whole group got picked off.”

“That’s…” Ray swallowed. “ _Really_ awful, actually.”

“That’s what paintball does to people,” Barbara shrugged, nonchalantly. It was as if it was the most normal thing in the world, interns starving to exhaustion and being riddled with coloured bullets. How annoyingly poetic. “ruthless world out there.”

“Does it though?” Ray raised an eyebrow. “Am I _seriously_ the only person who sees how fucking insane this all is? This,” he gestured to their make-shift setup around the lab bench, “Is not normal- we should _not_ be living off spaghetti-o’s and candy bars in our place of work in the middle of a fucking paintball war!”

“You gotta do what you gotta do to survive man.” Said Lindsay, shrugging as she sipped from the bottle of Coke.

“No!” Ray shook his head. “Stop saying shit like that! People have gotten used to this shit so quickly, it’s ridiculous! We could _all_ leave at any moment if we really wanted to and forget this stupid fucking game-”

“We’re too committed now.” Gavin scoffed. “Who even knows how long it’s been since it all started. Should we be writing things down? Like a memoir?”

“Um, I fucking know how long it’s been!” Ray scoffed. “It’s been three days Gav. Jesus- you guys are actually all turning crazy. A fucking memoir? We’re gonna need some serious therapy after this!”

Meg rolled her eyes at Ray’s dramatic display. “Whatever.” She sighed. “What are you gonna do if you win CEO, Michael?” she asked, changing the subject so smoothly that the others didn’t even notice. Ray noticed, however, watching her suspiciously from across the bench. She was good, Meg Turney. Almost too good.

Michael rolled his shoulder, popping his neck where he sat as Ray silently contemplated an actual conspiracy taking place in a fake game of paintball because _he_ was the fucking rational one. “Live, mostly.” He said. “For the first time in years, I’ll be able to sleep at night without a gun under my pillow.”

Their group went silent after that, except for the faint sound of plastic forks clanking against metal and the rustling of chip packets. Gavin looked to Michael and smiled at him tiredly, Michael leant down and kissed the tip of Gavin’s nose gently. Ray looked at the two and a faint wisp of distain curled in his stomach. For some reason, God knows why- the two were happy.

They were happy in this insane war-fantasy. They were happy in their relationship.

It made Ray strangely bitter. Somehow, for the first time in his life he wanted to have someone to mean something like that for him, wanted someone who knew his every tick, every thought, every strength and every weakness. In their industry, love was an awful thing- a deadly frailty, but Ray started to wonder that maybe as CEO, it was a deadly frailty he could afford.


	3. Day Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell us where the fucking safe zone is!”
> 
> Kerry Shawcross. Kerry was a vital part to their organisation, there was something about him- something between the graphic t-shirts and the dirty blonde hair that made him look so completely unthreatening that he was essentially the perfect mole. Kerry would be sent into a gang or a rival force, join the ranks and sell out their information. He was surprisingly graceful and crafty. He knew how to disappear without a trace one he had everything he needed.
> 
> Currently, he was laid on the floor of the hallway with Meg Turney’s gun pressed into his neck. His breaths were laboured but he didn’t look afraid, sweat coating his brow and eyes dark and challenging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I actually forgot to upload this. But, here it is now, please let me know what you think!
> 
> Brief chapter summary: shit gets real and the game draws to a close.

** Day Five **

 

 

“Tell us where the fucking safe zone is!”

Kerry Shawcross. Kerry was a vital part to their organisation, there was something about him- something between the graphic t-shirts and the dirty blonde hair that made him look so completely _unthreatening_ that he was essentially the perfect mole. Kerry would be sent into a gang or a rival force, join the ranks and sell out their information. He was surprisingly graceful and crafty. He knew how to disappear without a trace one he had everything he needed.

Currently, he was laid on the floor of the hallway with Meg Turney’s gun pressed into his neck. His breaths were laboured but he didn’t look afraid, sweat coating his brow and eyes dark and challenging.

“It’s pointless.” He panted. “It’s not going to be safe for much longer when the ghost gets his way!”

Meg didn’t appear fazed and pressed the gun harder against Kerry’s throat. He flinched, waiting for the sting of the bullet to come, but it never did. Meg was leant over him, eyes dark and inquisitive.

“Talk.” She commanded.

“He’s building an army.” Kerry explained in a worried tremble. “It doesn’t matter what you do- where you run, they’ll find you!”

“Quit it with the amateur dramatics Kerry and tell us where the fucking safe zone is.” Ray rolled his eyes, nudging Kerry with the tip of his sneaker, bored. “If it isn’t obvious, we’re going to shoot you anyway so you may as well fucking tell us.”

Kerry’s face fell and he pouted. “Fine. When did you become such a kill-joy, Ray?”

“Four fucking days ago when all this shit started.”

“Whatever.” Meg glared at Ray, warning him to back off silently and somewhat terrifyingly before she turned her gaze back to Kerry and tightened the grip on her gun. “Tell us.”

“It’s in the main kitchen. Geoff and Griffon set up a speakeasy down there and have been cashing in on the ammo ever since.”

“Nice one Bender.” Michael nodded. “Sorry about this-” Michael drew his gun, beating Meg to the post and popped his bullet in Kerry’s chest, a messy pink splatter coating his torn dress shirt. Kerry wheezed at first, but after a few coughs was fine and sat up.

“It’s cool.” He nodded. “Hey, Barb- are we still on for movie night with Miles, Chris and Aaron next Friday?”

“I have to take my niece to the dentist next Friday, can we do Saturday?”

“Oh, I can’t do Saturday… what about Monday night-”

“Enough!” Michael screamed, a true Rage Quit of _The Impossible Game_ proportions. “Fuck _off_ Kerry, you’re _dead_! You can leave through the fucking dumpster alley like all the other dead people! Fuck off!” Michael was like a petulant child, screaming because Kerry was ruining his game and it didn’t feel real enough anymore. Ray snickered quietly, earning a few death glares that he easily brushed off. He didn’t really give a shit- now he was invested, sure, but he was in it to win it. He didn’t have time for Michael’s tantrums.

Kerry rolled his eyes but got up, rubbing at his paint covered chest and wincing at the pain of the bruise surely forming following his dramatic exit. “Later guys.” He waved, still somewhat cheerful as he wandered off towards the exit.

“Bye Kerry!” Ray called after him.

* * *

 

If you’d asked Michael to describe their walk from the south-eastern corridor to the kitchen, he’d probably describe it as perilous, treacherous and other adjectives with varying degrees of extremity. Ray would correct him by explaining that really, it was a twenty-minute stroll. By the time they were on the approach of the kitchen, he was actually starting to get disappointed that they hadn’t been attacked yet. Numbers in the war were dwindling rapidly, and hopefully (he was _really_ hoping) it would all be over soon.

Almost as if on cue- Miles, Tyler and Kyle jumped out from down the corner of the hallway, guns locked, loaded and pointed at the group. At once they disbanded, taking cover desperately as the bullets whizzed above their heads and coated the walls.

“Where’d you get so much ammo?” Ray yelled over the sound of bullets flying.

“I always carry paintballs to parties!” Tyler’s voice called over the ruckus. “A safety precaution in case we get ambushed and we don’t have real guns. They’d never come in handy until now.”

Ray was halfway through berating how that was _the stupidest fucking thing_ he’d ever heard when he saw Meg, Lindsay and Barbara hop up from the upturned desk they’d been hiding from and start annihilating. It all in a matter of seconds reminded him why the girls in the company seriously got so much more shit done. Armed with barely ten bullets between the three of them, Miles, Tyler and Kyle were taken out. Tyler and Kyle were the first to go, huffing off around the corner with annoyed expressions, mumbling to each other how it was all ‘so unfair’.

Miles stayed fighting till the end until a particularly well aimed bullet from the gun of Lindsay Tuggey flew through the air and hit him straight between the eyes, blue splattering over his face. Miles staggered, dropping to the floor as the group rushed over to his body.

Ray’s main intention was to steal all the ammo the tiny group of bandits had been gloating about but the others, so dedicated to their roles were sat solemnly around Miles’ body as he acted out a death scene of _Clint Eastwood_ capabilities. Ray could’ve sworn he saw Barbara shed a tear and rolled his eyes, shaking out the bag Miles had dropped.

Four green paintballs rolled out, along with half a pack of gum and nothing else.

“I could’ve had it all-”

“-Hey Miles,” Ray interrupted his co-workers dramatic monologue. “Where the fucks all this ammo?”

“There is no ammo.” Miles chuckled, but could only last a few laughs before choking theatrically again. “The true ammo… it was within us all along.”

“So this was all you had?”

“Yeah, we used up Tyler’s shit like six hours ago.” Miles quickly explained. “But anyway- listen,” his breathing became laboured once again. Ray crossed his legs and huffed, knowing he’d probably have to let the whole scene play out before the group would continue on foot. He loaded the four paintballs into his gun silently, without alerting the others. Fuck them- if they wanted to indulge in all this make-believe shit, he could win the old fashioned way and have a chance at escaping when ‘The Ghost’s Army’ consisting of whoever the fuck was probably left ambushed them.

“I’m sorry Miles.” Lindsay said, rubbing the paint away from his eyes. Miles shook his head.

“It’s okay… it’s the game, Lindsay. I’m going home now…” he trailed off, eyes falling closed. “I’m…going… _home_.”

“Is he dead yet?”

“Yeah, I’m done.” Miles stood up, brushing the dust off his shirt. “I’m actually going home. See y’all on Monday.”

“Bye Miles!” they sing-songed, waving their beloved friend away as he skipped off down the corridor. Ray chose not to even voice his opinion, knowing that by now, the crew were crazy enough to probably shoot him down for being ‘treacherous’ or something equally as ridiculous.

“Lost a few more good souls today, folks,” Michael sighed, tucking his gun back into his holster. “But we keep moving. We don’t give up, and continue our search.”

“There is no search.” Ray mumbled, quiet enough so nobody could hear him. “The kitchen’s down the hall and on the left.”

“I think it’s this way.” Barbara nodded to the end of the hall, moving out with the group behind her. Ray lagged behind, Meg falling back besides him.

“Hey, Meg.” He said, once they were far enough back from the group. “You’re… I don’t know, somewhat sane.”

“I like to think.” She laughed. “Why?”

“Well, that’s my question. Why… all this? These fucking… theatrics- why is everybody so sold on this shit? They’re eating it up like fucking pudding and I _don’t_ get it.”

Meg scoffed. “Well of course you don’t get it.” She said. Ray frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

They stopped at the end of the corridor, a routine check for any threats as they entered a blind-spot. Meg looked up at Ray and smiled softly, placing her hand at his arm. “For you, Ray… this job- it’s everything. It’s your way of life and you love it. It isn’t like that for everyone here… sometimes, it’s nice to just… be able to pretend to be someone else.”

They both glanced over at Michael, who had his hands tucked in his holster like a cowboy in stirrups at the rest of the group inspected the area under his watchful gaze. “Like Michael, he loves this shit. Getting to be the leader, for once. People like this whole… paintball war fantasy because they know that really- they’re safe. They can escape, for a few days and not have to worry about what country they’re flying too and what gang wants them dead. That’s all it is Ray. It’s an escape.”

Meg took her hand back and walked away, headed down the corridor as the group picked up walking again. Ray stood stock still where he’d been standing, unmoved.

“Ray! You coming or what mate? We can practically see the safe zone!”

“Yeah!” Ray willed his feet to start moving again, blinking back into the real (fake) world and jogging over to the group. “I’m here, is this it?”

The door to the kitchen looked…. Like the door to the kitchen, mostly, despite the few splatters of paint on the door. Above the platinum sign that read _KITCHEN_ , someone had dipped their fingers in paint and decorated some kind of mural that read ‘SAFE ZONE’. Ray assumed it was Griffon.

They pushed their way through the doors but didn’t get very far, a rope tied to two chairs blocking their exit to what looked… well, it looked almost like a bar.

The main kitchen surfaces had several of their beloved co-workers, trading snacks from the fridge for tiny paintball pellets, people sitting on tables eating and talking and laughing. Ray’s eyes were blown wide as he looked around.

“Welcome to the safe zone,” Chris Demarais smiled at them. “Paintball each to enter, leave your weapons at the door.”

Before they could answer (or, with Michael as their leader- argue) Geoff appeared from around the corner. His expensive tuxedo was only slightly ruined, and he honestly looked in better shape than most of the sad saps they’d seen lurking in the hallways. Apparently, the Safe Zone was real and it was treating him good.

“My dearest friends!” He greeted with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to arrive. Chris, don’t worry about charging them. These guys are very special guests.”

Michael stepped forwards first, angry frown scanning the room for a threat before reluctantly, he pulled his gun and dumped it in the crate labelled ‘ _GUNZ aND STUFf’ ._ “Alright, Ramsey, we’ll play by your rules.” He said as his eyes finally landed back on Geoff. “But no funny business.”

“Scouts honour.” Geoff winked.

Geoff led them up to ‘The Bar’ where he insisted all their drinks were ‘free’, and by free, it meant that when Gavin handed Geoff a crumpled ten he found in his sock (how? Ray wasn’t sure how anyone could spontaneously discover money in their sock that they didn’t know they had) they didn’t have to hand over any of their precious ammo.

They sat on a stool, briefly nodding hello to Joel and Yvonne who were sipping glasses of what could’ve either been vodka or water. Ray wasn’t really sure what to think.

He was handed an amber coloured liquid by the bartender (Patrick) and was about to refuse when he caught the send of purified sugar. It was fucking apple juice.

Gavin had apparently discovered the same at a similar time, and was grimacing as he swallowed, rubbing his tongue on the back of his shirt. “Gross. Where’s the bevs?”

“We ran out, two days ago.” Geoff said, hanging his head as if he was talking about a dear friend dying. Although, when it came to alcohol for Geoff Ray supposed the two tragedies were similar. “Things have been on a decline, recently. People leaving just for a short trip to gather supplies and never being heard of again. When I started this, business was booming but… not any more. It’s… a recession, I think.”

Ray rose his eyebrows sarcastically, but a trying glance from Meg kept his mouth shut. The rest of the group were nodding in unison, listening to Geoff’s carefully woven tail of how hiding out in the pantry and charging people three paintballs for bags of chips and other dry produce had blossomed quickly into a full blown speakeasy.

“You’re crazy.” He mumbled, unable to help himself. He’d hoped nobody would notice, he was pretty good at keeping his doubting thoughts to himself around the group but Geoff caught it, wild eyes locking with Ray’s.

“I wanted a place where people could be safe- where there didn’t _have_ to be all this conflict!” he slammed his fist on the counter-top. “Because… outside of this _war_ what are we? We’re all still humans.”

“Fuck off, Geoff,” Ray laughed. “Don’t act like you don’t want the prize too.”

Geoff deflated. “Alright, you got me there.” He grinned. “I just wanted somewhere where I couldn’t get shot and I could bribe people to protect me. Another round?” he nodded to Patrick, who topped up their glasses and put a small dish of olives on the kitchen counter.

“Real food that isn’t Twinkies!” Barbara’s eyes lit up, poking at an olive with a cocktail stick and devouring it whilst Gavin gagged at the smell. Geoff smiled, patting his pseudo-son on the back.

“You’re welcome, kids- there’s… I guess a little bit more where that came from. Gotta keep my soldiers strong.” He gestured at one of the lesser ranked employees of Roosterteeth, the ones that Ray sometimes knew by name, but never attended their birthday parties. He was walking up and down the lengths of the kitchen, gun locked and loaded in hand. “We’re preparing for that ambush.” Geoff winked.

* * *

 

The few hours they spent in the safe zone blew by almost all too quickly, for Ray. He was kicking himself for it- but he was actually having a good time now that he’d finally given in and sold himself to the fantasy. They played beer pong (with water and a box of Kool Aid they’d found in the cupboard) and darts and joked around. Lindsay and Barbara did a karaoke rendition of _Wake Me Up Inside_ that brought tears all through the house and they genuinely all had a good laugh. It didn’t matter that Michael kept referring to it as ‘a good break from the horrors and tragedy.’ Ray was fucking enjoying himself, now that he had allowed his imagination to flesh out the parts that didn’t make sense.

Griffon busted through the doors, startling them out of _My Heart Will Go On._ Her dress had been completely ripped up to her thighs, heavy leather jacket (where did she even _get that_?) cast over her shoulders and what looked like a semi-automatic in her hands. A few others surrounded her in similar condition, some Ray recognised and some he didn’t.

“Is it time?” Geoff asked, with a sigh. The speak-easy fell silent. Griffon approached her husband slowly, adoringly holding his face between her hands. She rested her forehead against his and nodded sadly. Geoff cursed under his breath, before pulling away.

Ray watched as Geoff climbed up on the bar. “Ladies and Gentleman, Lads and Gents!” he yelled, as if he even needed to try and captivate the small crowd’s attention. For the kids of the contract killer world like Ray, Geoff Lazer Ramsey was a fucking celebrity. He was one of the few who started it all, _Roosterteeth_ way back when mission _RVB_ was just an idea.

“The time has come to take arms, and stand up for what’s right!” he declared. “The Ghost and his army of traitors and murderers think they can take us, but I say- they’ve got another fucking thing coming! Because what are they, other than a bunch of dicks? They’re fucking cowards- that’s what! Sneaking around in the dead of the night, picking people off with no ammo- what kind of leader even does that? The Ghost must be stopped and he must be destroyed. I don’t know how many men we will lose tonight Ladies and Gentleman, but I know each and every one will go out _fighting_. I want to take this time to say it has been an honour serving with you all! And tonight,” he paused- mainly for dramatic effect but also because he was running out of breath. “We _Fight_!”

During the dramatic speech and the subsequent cheering and dishing out of weapons, Ray slipped away from his group and towards the backdoor. Now was his perfect opportunity to see if he could locate all this hoarded paintball paraphernalia and see if it really was enough to end things. He could heart he rustling of plastic as the patrons took up their guns and loaded them with the bullets kept in the tip jars and make shift tills that littered the surfaces. That’d be enough for them for a few minutes, sure- but for a whole battle? Ray was sure Geoff had a few tricks up his sleeve.

He snuck through the back of the kitchen, down the basement steps and into the pantry. The door had smudged on it in blue paint _GEOFF’S STUFF. KEEP OUT._

Ray scoffed. “Leave it to Geoff to fucking-”

He was cut off by a large hand securing itself over his mouth. Ray’s first instinct was to bite, but restrained himself when the familiar smell of gunpowder and cigarette smoke filled his nostrils. This was Ryan, he could tell- even without his sight as something dark but surprisingly pleasant smelling was shoved over his head.

“Ryan, stop- Ryan… what are you doing?”

Ray felt himself be shoved into another room, probably the cleaning supply closet besides the kitchen. Something plastic and gun-shaped (so probably a gun, he quickly inferred) was shoved into his hands, and with a faint _sh_ , the hand released his mouth.

“Ryan?” Ray whispered. “Are you still there?”

Ray’s answer was the click of the door closing, and locking.

* * *

 

Ryan always picked the locks when they were on missions together and ended up stuck in (or occasionally out of) a room. The Vagabond had apparently been picking locks as long as he could walk and talk, and could probably bust himself out of a jail cell in under a minute. It was something to be admired, really.

So in their few years together, Ray had learnt a thing or two about lock picking. Those main things consisted of one thin stick going at the bottom of the lock and another thin stick turning the top. Sadly, his expertise ended there. It took him a good twenty minutes or so with a bobby-pin and a paperclip to make it out of the supply closet. Once the light of the corridor hit his face, he grinned, fist tightly gripping the offending the material that Ryan had used to obstruct his vision. He looked down at it and gasped.

Ryan’s mask. Fucking ‘skeletor’ as Ray had affectionately nicknamed it. Ryan didn’t go anywhere without it, half the time it was wrapped around his skull over a vibrant layer of face-paint. There were interns who gossiped in the bathroom over fantasies of what his face actually looked like. Ryan hadn’t shown him his true face until weeks of them working together.

It was a big deal for him. He’d been mask-less at the party out of social circumstance, but Roosterteeth was always growing by the day. To those who didn’t know, he could’ve easily been an unknown guest or a new hire. Ryan had wrapped his precious mask around Ray’s face and gone out to brave a battle without it. What that meant, Ray sure as hell didn’t know.

He busted his way into the panty (another ten minutes of fiddling with the paperclip and the bobby pin) and marvelled at the ammo stockpiled on the shelves. The fucking stupid stories this whole time had been true- Geoff was hoarding the mother-load. As he approached a shelf, a white note was tacked onto a bag of plastic bullets.

_I only took enough to end this. The rest… do what you will._

Ray frowned pulling the note off the bag and reading it quickly, before crumpling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. _Do what you will_? Why did Ryan always have to be so cryptic and mysterious? Ray was eighty percent sure the guy got off on being enigmatic. And _yeah_ , so maybe he thought it was kind of hot too. Whatever.

Ray gathered up enough ammo to take out whoever was left fighting and loaded it up into a semi-automatic that was hanging on the spice rack. He loaded it, aimed and fired at a sack of flower, smiling as the red paint dribbled down. _Finally_ , he thought to himself _I can end this fucking lunacy._

He was quiet as he made his way up the stairs towards the kitchen. For all he knew, the fighting was still going on- which would make it easy to slip in and start firing. He smiled at the thought, a bullet to the chest for Lindsay, one between the eyes for Michael. He’d never got the chance to fantasise about murdering his friends without being considered insane before, so it was a refreshing feeling. It was probably how Ryan felt every day- with his abyss of psychopathic tendencies.

Ray took in a deep breath, before opening the door at the top of the stairs. The wind was knocked out of him by… _nothing_ , that filled the room. Geoff’s safe-zone had crashed and burned as he expected, paint covering almost every surface. There was no active fight, not even any bodies of the pseudo-deceased.

Well, there was _a_ body, but it wasn’t dead. Ryan stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving and pistol gripped tightly in his hand. His suit was torn, but not ruined, not a single speck of paint covering him. Blue dripped from the nozzle of his gun, and for a second, Ray thought about his eyes. Ryan turned his head, and looked at Ray.

His hair was kind of long, the way Ray liked it when it hadn’t been cut for a month or so. Even his facial hair was growing out fairly thickly. Ray wondered silently how it would feel against his own skin.

“Hey asshole.” He greeted. Ryan turned completely, drawing his gun up to point directly at Ray’s chest. Ray didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Ryan’s hand didn’t shake, but his grip wasn’t looking too tight. Ray was halfway through calculating how good the odds were of him, rushing across the room and snatching the gun off Ryan, popping it in the back of his head and walking out victorious when Ryan lowered his arm.

“I’m not here to shoot you, Ray.” He said, voice gruff. Ray frowned- it was impossible to read Ryan’s emotions on a good day, and the giant gas-mask he was sporting wasn’t helping too much either. Ray sniffed the air, wondering how legit the paintballs were and how much non-toxic paint in the air really could harm them. Why had nobody else considered this before?

Ryan pulled the gas mask up and it pushed his hair back. His eyes were as blue and bright as they’d always been- but they lacked the cold demeanour Ryan was usually sporting. They looked softer, somehow- could eyes even look soft? Ryan’s could, apparently.

“You win.” Ryan shrugged.

“Nu-uh,” Ray shook his gun, eyebrows sky-rocketing to his forehead. “It’s not gonna be that easy- first you ignore me for weeks, then you completely avoid me at the party! I have to go off and cry in _the car_ and then what? You’re too fucking sentimental to shoot me? You hide me in a fucking broom closet with a gun so what… I wouldn’t get caught in the cross fire? Bullshit Ryan- what is this about?!”

He wasn’t aware of how angry he felt until he had started shouting, throat raw and hoarse as he did. It’d been a long time- too long, locked up in this God-damn building. The stupid war, he didn’t even care about. He didn’t care about the theatrics, the fake deaths nor the destruction in the building. He fucking cared about Ryan, no matter how much he didn’t want to. Ryan had been avoiding him- in five days of a hundred or so employees being locked up in a building, Ryan had still managed to avoid him.

“I did what I had to do to protect you-”

“Bull _shit_!” Ray repeated. “I don’t need you protecting me Ryan, and what even is all this?” he waved his gun, gesturing around the destroyed room. “What’s it all for?” he asked. “You’re the ghost now- the fucking ghost of the fake paintball war party? You actually recruited an army and set up an ambush for what? CEO of Rooster Teeth? When have you ever played by Rooster Teeth’s rules?”

“I haven’t.” Ryan raised his voice. He almost sounded choked up, but the Vagabond didn’t have emotions, in Ray’s experience. Ryan didn’t feel anything. “But you have.”

“ _What_?”                     

“We’ve worked together… for a while, Ray,” Ryan sighed. “And… and I know how you feel about this company- I know that there’s so much out there that you want to do but you can’t because they restrict you. They hold you back in your airtight contract with a thousand lawyers and promises of straight-up murder if you leave. I just think that you are _too much talent_ to go to see go to waste.”

“So… what? What are you saying?” Ray asked. Ryan bit his lip.

“I’m… I’m saying that I did this, all of this- for you. You deserve to make the agency you want, have the rules you want to play by- live your own fucking life without the fear of being fired and mysteriously taken out in the night. As soon as Burnie explained his plan, I knew what had to be done. This gun,” he let out an almost-laugh, holding up the plastic before firing it off in the direction of the makeshift bar, a loud bang followed by blue paint hitting the sink. “It’s not empty or anything. You haven’t trapped me here; I’m just not going to use it. Not on you.”

Ray was quiet, for a second as the information registered in his brain. Whatever it was exactly that Ryan was trying to say, he wasn’t sure of. It meant something, that’s all he could figure out. He could feel it, making his toes go numb and his chest tighten. Ryan’s words meant something.

That was the scariest part about it.

“You… did all of this… for me?” he asked in a quiet voice. “So I could win?” Ryan nodded. “Ryan, what the _fuck_?”

Ryan rose an eyebrow. “Are you _angry_?” he asked, surprised. Ray shook his head.

“No- I…” the gun in his grip was still loaded, still ready to fire. Whether he had any intention of pulling the trigger or not… that was impossible to know. “Yes? Maybe… I’m… I’m angry but not because of that. It’s just… you fucking- you fucking fuck with my head, alright?”

“I fucking fuck with your head?” Ryan repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know it’s just…” Ray paused, taking in a breath. “We work together and we do well and we’re a good team but… I feel like the second I get anywhere close to you, you just… shut off and disappear? We did Argentina last month and it was a fucking blast… but then what? I fucking kissed you and you’ve been avoiding me ever since. You couldn’t stand to even _look_ at me at the party, but then now I find out you’ve… orchestrated this entire plan to help me?” he laughed, despite himself. “I mean, mixed signals much?!”

Ryan bowed his head slightly, before reaching up to pull the gas mask away completely. His hair (greasy and caked in what was indistinguishable as blood or paint. Ray wasn’t sure he wanted to know which the truth was) dipped in-front of his face, and he pushed it back. It was a nervous habit of his, playing with his hair. Ray had only seen Ryan be nervous a handful of times before.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking back up to Ray again. “I just… I did all of that for your protection Ray. I care about you... but I won’t let myself put you in danger.”

“And what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m a dangerous man,” Ryan shrugged, scratching at his beard. “Not just in paintball- in life, period. Every minute you spend with me is a minute closer than you should be to sudden death. I’ve got enemies in every continent and the one advantage I have over them… is that I don’t have anybody I care about enough for them to take away,” he explained. Ray could see the seriousness in his eyes, and swallowed nervously. “But then,” Ryan continued with a bitter laugh. “I had to fucking meet you and fuck all that up. I’ve been distancing myself from you to keep us both safe.”

“You really mean all of that?” Ray asked quietly. Ryan nodded, and he laughed. “Just when I thought this whole situation couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you fucking mean all of that?”

“I do.” Ryan nodded. “That’s also partly why I wanted you to win CEO! Not just because I want you to be happy but… because at least knowing you’re CEO means that I know you’re safe. Forever.”

“Well…” Ray attempted a laugh at lightening the mood, but it came out as more of a choke. “I… if this is it- if this means I’m CEO then I am safe, Ryan. Nobody can get me- nobody can touch me if I run the biggest agency out there. We can... be together? Maybe… I mean, if that’s what you would even want like-”

“You’d still want me?” Ryan cut him off. “After all this?”

Ray shrugged, not allowing himself to meet Ryan’s ethereal eyes. “It’s just paintball.”

Ryan nodded. “I suppose it is. I guess, then… yes? I mean… I’d love to…be together- with you if … if you’d let me?”

Ray almost cringed- almost. Something about the ridiculousness of their surroundings, the battered kitchen with the paint splatters and the plastic guns stopped him. The whole thing was fake- that was a given but _this_ … him and Ryan and Ryan and him. That was the real fucking deal.

“Hey! Just kiss already!” Came a voice. Both Ryan and Ray turned to see Geoff, paint splattered over his suit with Griffon beside him, Michael, Gavin, Lindsay, Barbara and Meg just behind them, congregated in a small group in the kitchen doorway. “I gotta go home to my kid!”

Ryan looked back to Ray, who was grinning. “Well, you heard the boss.”

Ryan scoffed. “Geoff isn’t the boss of me. But I will listen to him on this one particular occasion.”

Ryan lips were soft. Ray’d always wondered how they’d feel in their few years of knowing each other. He was pleasantly surprised by the slightly rough edge to this kiss- he’d always assumed Ryan’d be a much more gentle romantic type, despite his abrasive shell. The guy was a secret softie, after all- Ray’d seen him tear up at _Love_ _Actually_ and had been sworn to secrecy ever since. Their kiss was mostly a chaste brush of lips, nothing involving tongue or groping or anything like that- because… well, several of their friends were stood in the doorway watching them. The idea of that made Ray pull back, glancing over to the small crowd who were smiling at them. Ryan had apparently got the same idea, because when he looked back to Ray his nose wrinkled. “Weird?” he asked. Ray nodded. “Super weird. Let’s continue kissing when our friends aren’t watching.”

Ryan agreed to this, stepping back from Ray completely. He tossed his gun across the room, and it cracked as it eventually hit the floor. Ryan didn’t care. He stood with his arms wide apart, and welcomed the embrace of the (not-so) fatal shot directly to his chest, red paint coating his white shirt, his neck and some of his chin.

When he opened his eyes again, Ray was stood in front of him with a grin. “Gotcha.” He smiled.


	4. Two Days Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re invited! Not to a party. There will be no fun of any kind. A special announcement at HQ. Congratulations to all who participated, and a special well done to Ray Narvaez Jr. The winner.
> 
> Attendance is mandatory.
> 
> Burnie Burns, ex-CEO.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I'm terrible at sticking to update schedules, who knew?! (I knew.)
> 
> So yeah, here the end of the story. Thanks for sticking with the short tale, and please let me know what you think in the comments. Who knows, maybe one day I'll write a part two, or a follow up or something else occurring within this AU. All depends on what people think, really.
> 
> thanks for reading! And keep an eye out on my page for new stuff coming out soon :)

** Two Days Later **

****

 

 

_You’re invited! Not to a party. There will be no fun of any kind. A special announcement at HQ. Congratulations to all who participated, and a special well done to **Ray Narvaez Jr.** The winner._

_Attendance is mandatory._

_Burnie Burns, ex-CEO._

* * *

 

Ray had never been excited for a party before, but when the envelope came through the door, he couldn’t help but feel excited. He still went through the usual protocols (peephole, gun, scan of the hallway, scan of the envelope) The paper was the same cheap A4 mush that had been processed through a laser printer sometime in the last few days. The ink was the same ink; black as night and premium quality.

Ray couldn’t help but grin as he read the message aloud, a dramatic over-exaggerated impersonation of Burnie Burns. Ryan was sat on his couch, feet up on the coffee table with a Rubix cube in his hand, laughing away.

“I guess we’ll go. If we really have to.” He joked.

* * *

 

The building was in a state that shocked Ray, but also didn’t shock him. It was like the events of the week previous had passed in a blur of days and when he walked into the main building and didn’t see the familiar landmarks (Kara’s upturned desk, paint smudged message spelling ‘beware’, smashed picture frames etc.) he almost felt nostalgic. Almost, but not quite.

His hands were kept tightly in the pockets of his shorts, and Ryan walked a few steps behind him. Sure, their friends knew what had gone on (and what was continuing to go on) and Burnie probably knew too (not that it mattered what his inter-office relationship policies were, because he was no longer the boss) but nobody else knew. Nobody else had to know.

The main function room was almost unrecognisable. Some kind of expensive no-questions asked clean-up crew had come and gone, most of the destruction cleared but still not completely spotless. On the walls, you could still see the faintest splatters of blue or orange or green that were either going to take some serious scrubbing or a complete repaint to get rid of.

Everyone had arrived before them, Ray wanting to be fashionably late and Ryan having to be physically dragged to his car due to sheer reluctance. Turned out he still hated parties and he’d only originally attended Ashley’s birthday gala on Meg’s insistence (he’d also never set foot in Montreal). Ray made a note to thank her.

Michael and Gavin spotted the pair first from across the room, annoying knowing smirks sent in their direction and deflected by Ryan’s death glares. Jack came over and greeted them, Ryan apologised for turning on him and their group. Jack just laughed,

“It’s only paintball. Congratulations, Ray.”

Ray let out a sigh of relief, seemed like everyone had finally come back to their senses. Although fun whilst it lasted, a five-day paintball war was impractical and insane and once he stepped up to CEO, nothing of the sort was ever occurring again. Ever.

“Looks like Burnie’s making his way up for the big announcement.” Ryan nodded to the stage, where Burnie was walking. “You nervous?” he asked. Ray scoffed.

“Please, me? Puerto Rican’s have nerves of steel Ryan.”

“You sure?” Ryan teased, fingers stroking lightly against Ray’s waist. Ray blushed, glaring at Ryan who wasn’t even _looking_ at him, gaze casted casually across the room. The fucker was too good at being sneaky, which was essentially his job. He was way too good at his job, and it made Ray hot under the collar.

Before Ray could make a scene, Burnie tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention. Ryan’s hand dropped back to his side as Burnie gave an indignant smile at the audience of co-workers.

“Hi guys- glad you could all make it,” he began, a false sense of cheerful security already setting in. It surprised Ray how Burnie could be so articulate and charismatic. He could turn a group of rebels into his comrades with barely a few words and a smile. Maybe it was the air of authority he’d always carried. Ray wondered if he’d inherit that too, along with the company.

“I’m glad you could all make it today,” Burnie continued. “As you’ve probably all guessed, there is a specific reason that I called you here today-”

“-get on with it!” Geoff heckled from the crowd. Burnie only glared at him, before skimming across the mild disturbance expertly.

“This is my chance to make a big announcement involving the future of this company. I’d like to call someone very special up to the stage,” Ryan gave Ray a pointed look, and Ray felt his heart jump into his throat. It was sixth grade debating all over again, his chance to stand up and speak. If this went anything like that, he’d run off the stage crying. “I’d like to welcome up the newly appointed CEO of Rooster Teeth,” Burnie held out a hand to the side of the stage. Ray frowned from where he stood in the audience.

“Mr Matt Hullum.”

The room was silent. Ray had never heard Rooster Teeth as a collective group _be_ so silent before and it unnerved him greatly. Matt walked up to the stage, smiling in the face of a silent audience. His demeanour was so casual, it made Ray suspicious. Had Matt even been at Ashley’s birthday party? Was he a part of the war at all?

“Hi guys, I just want to start by saying I am going to do my absolute best for this organisation, I-”

“No, hold on.” Michael’s voice bubbled up from the crowd, pushing his way to the front. “Burnie, what the fuck? Ray won- fair and square. He’s the CEO!”

Burnie looked into the crowd, down at Michael. His eyes then travelled to Ray, and he sighed. For a moment, Ray thought he was crying.

He wasn’t crying (Burnie Burns never _cries_ ). He was laughing, head in hands- _laughing_.

Burnie looked up at the crowd, a mixture of confusion, anger and suspicious falling over all of their faces. “You seriously think-” he wheezed as he took over Matt’s spot at the mike, resting against it for a second to regain his composure. “You seriously think I’d let one of _you_ assholes become CEO? Really? You think I’d let Ray fucking do it? Of all people!”

With every eye in the room falling on him, Ray swallowed. “Yeah…” he said, quietly. However, it didn’t matter. A whisper in a silent room may as well be a shout. Burnie stopped laughing- he no longer looked amused. Matt just looked solemn and unmoved by his side. Burnie’s gaze hardened.

“I just wanted to see how far you’d all go,” he shrugged, looking around the room. “I seriously didn’t even _fathom_ the fact that you would all go as far as you did. Do you know how much it’s costing this company to repair the fucking building?” he yelled. Almost collectively, the crowd flinched. Ryan’s hand settled on the small of Ray’s back comfortingly. “I’m fucking _shocked_ at what went on here. Did you know it was five fucking days?! You guys didn’t leave for five days! For a paintball contest!” it felt like Ray’s words from the majority of the war were being slapped right back in his face. Suddenly, he knew how it felt to be Barbara. To be Gavin. To be Michael. For once, he wasn’t the asshole.

Burnie had never minded being the asshole.

“You guys are all insane. Matt’s the new CEO, because he’s one of the founders and he knows what’s best for this company. We’ll be working together closely- nothing major is going to change. Business is closed for… God knows how long until we fix this fucking shipwreck,” he gestured around at the room. “Fucking… take a vacation or something. Hopefully we can all start afresh in a few weeks.”

Burnie left the stage, Matt not far behind him. There was a click as the main doors to the function room opened, signalling the exit. Some people left straight away, apologetic and sympathetic looks shot in Ray’s direction. Ray ignored most of them, because he didn’t feel… sad. He wasn’t really sure what to name the feeling swirling in his gut as he turned back to face Ryan- who looked… oddly vacant.

“You okay?” Ryan asked him. Ray shrugged.

“It’s just paintball.” He sighed. Ryan’s hand was heavy and comforting on his shoulder, as eyes fell on him from all around the room. Ray could see Michael and Gavin approaching them from one end and sighed. “Look, Ryan” he said. “I get if you… wanna pretend that this- us didn’t happen. I know we… can’t be together or whatever because it’s dangerous, so if you wanna leave-”

“-I’m not leaving you.” Ryan cut him off, soft smile on his face. “You know how I feel, so do several other people… and word spreads pretty quick around here.” He nodded in the direction of a group of interns who seemed to be watching them with adoring expressions. Ray glared, and they scampered off. “Maybe it’d be better to just go with it.” Ryan suggested.

Ray raised his eyebrows. “Really dude? After your whole… dramatic speech and keeping me safe and everything you’re just gonna say… fuck it?”

“Yeah,” Ryan shrugged, a pale blush settling at his cheeks. “I’m gonna admit that I may have been caught up a little in the heat of the moment.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know if you’d noticed, but I singlehandedly convinced twenty people to join my army and ambush a designated safe zone- I’m kind of a bad ass.” He joked. Ray laughed at that and Ryan pulled him close, resting his chin on the top of Ray’s head. “I’m sure I can protect you from some evil game-grumps, or whatever.”

Ray grinned. “Sweet.” He hugged Ryan briefly before stepping back as Michael and Gavin reached them.

“It’s fucking bullshit,” Michael said. “Burnie’s an asshole.”

Ray shrugged the rant off, feeling like a weight was slipping from his shoulders. The long and short of it was- it _had_ been the heat of the moment and the lack of food and the stir-craziness settling in. He didn’t want to be fucking CEO- that would be ridiculous. Ray was pretty good at combat- no so much at paperwork.

“Are you sure you’re not upset Ray?” Gavin asked. “Ryan was right, what he said about this place, holding you back and that.”

“It’s whatever.” Ray shrugged. “I think I used to bitch about Rooster Teeth because I couldn’t just do whatever I wanted. In a weird way… this stupid war taught me that sometimes you just gotta play by other people’s rules,” he made it sound like a causal remark- more than enough to appease Gavin and Michael. Ray caught eyes with Meg across the room and smiled broadly at her. “Besides,” he continued, looking back to Ryan. “That’s how life works. Can’t have it all, I guess. And what I do have is pretty sweet anyway.”

Ryan smiled at him. Gavin cooed loudly, Michael elbowed him in the ribs, gave a little _fuck-with-Ray-you’re-dead_ stare to Ryan (as if he could ever take on The Vagabond, _adorable_ ) before dragging his boyfriend away with him. Ryan watched the two walk off, bickering and arguing but swinging their hands happily as they did so. He reached out, and took Ray’s hand in his.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “It is pretty… sweet. Dinner, tomorrow night?”

“Dude, as long as it’s anything other than lukewarm beans and vending machine snacks- I’ll put out.” Ray grinned. Ryan chuckled, “You drive a hard bargain, Brownman.”

Ray swung their hands as they made their way out of the building. “You know it,” he said, “ _Vagabond_.”

“So my Ghost days are over then?” Ryan asked. Ray nodded.

“I think I prefer Vagabond. And you know what I like even better than that?” he asked. Ryan raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked. Ray smiled.

“Just… plain old boring _Ryan_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. Please please plssss let me know what you thought by leaving a tiny comment? I'll be happy forever.
> 
> Also HMU on tumblr PAPERSK1N.tumblr.com and check out some of my other works :))))


End file.
